


enough

by armethaumaturgy



Category: Elsword (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Fluff, M/M, angel kin Ain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 19:01:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9398699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armethaumaturgy/pseuds/armethaumaturgy
Summary: “I will… I will get my wings back one day… I will wrap them around you.”





	

When Elsword comes back home, a grocery bag in unfeeling hand and cheeks flushed deeply from the freezing wind, there’s a soft melody wafting through the entire apartment.

He can’t help the smile adorning his face as he sets the bag down onto the kitchen counter and makes his way to the living room, toes curling on their own volition, trying to regain warmth.

“Ain,” he calls out to the other boy, who’s lying on the couch, eyes staring blankly at the muted TV. His phone sits on the coffee table; the gentle song is coming from its speakers. It isn’t even loud, just audible since there’s silence in the rest of the apartment. “You okay?”

Ain shifts on his stomach, reprops his head on his crossed arms and looks at him with a soft frown. It’s not aimed at him, it’s just there as Ain tries to categorize his feelings.

“I am fine, apologies for worrying you. They just… ache,” he says after a while.

Els can see the way the silver haired boy’s shoulders shift beneath his thin shirt, shoulder blades contracting and then relaxing again.

“Would you like a massage?” the redhead offers as he shrugs off his coat, dashing to put it away onto the hanger in the hallway.

“No, it is okay!” is called after him.

He smiles again. Ain’s speech gets so much more formal during these moments, like he forgets that Elsword is younger. Like he forgets how everything works. Though he can’t claim he knows how the other feels; after all, it’s not like he knows he had been an angel. There have to be some instincts or memories that make Ain talk like this.

Well, he didn’t start speaking Latin out of nowhere (yet), so he supposes it’s okay. He still can’t believe that Ain took the Latin classes purely to be able to remember more.

“I’ll make you a drink,” Els says, and this time it isn’t a question, just a simple statement.

“No need, Elsword,” Ain whines, for the lack of a better word, trudging out of the living room, phone in hand, the singer’s lulling Latin words muffled by his fingers over the speakers.

He chooses to ignore the words and fills a small pot with water and sprinkles sugar into it, putting it on the stove to boil while he starts unpacking the groceries.

Ain sits at the dining part of the counter and watches him with those almost sparkling eyes of his. His head is swaying to the sides with the beat of the song and all Els can see when he steals glances is ‘cute’.

By the time the water boils, he’s done with unpacking and Ain has one of the peaches he bought in his hand.

He stretches onto his tippy toes to reach the upper cabinet and pulls out a glass container. This recipe is so familiar to him that it feels like he’d been doing it for years now.

From the container, he puts a handful of lavender buds into the water and turns down the heat.

Ain watches him with a fond expression, something far away and almost unearthly in it. He’s humming the song as it loops back to the beginning.

Els puts the container away and pulls out a pitcher and a carton from the fridge. The pitcher is so cold that it makes his fingers sting, but he’s grown used to it while out.

He sets then in front of Ain and goes to grab the jars,turning the stove off completely while he’s at it.

“Alright, here we go,” he mumbles, pouring lemonade into the jars. The cold makes small droplets condense on the outside of the glass. He fills the jars up the rest of the way with peach juice and then shoves the jug and juice box to the other side of the counter.

Finally, he takes the pan off the stove and with the help of a spoon adds a bit of the syrup into both their jars. Okay, maybe he gives Ain a double amount, who’s counting the spoonfuls?

He stirs the drinks with the spoon and then tosses it into the sink. It makes a soft clink as it hits the bottom.

“Thank you, Els,” Ain says, curling his lips up to give the short boy a smile full of sunshine in the middle of the winter. “You’re the best.”

“Damn right I am,” Els grins, but he leans over and ruffles Ain’s hair softly. The strands stand out in random directions when he’s done, their cyan underside visible and turning Ain’s into an image of the cloudy sky. “It’s okay. You’ll get them back one day.”

Ain takes a sip of the lemonade and his body visibly relaxes as the fluid passes down his throat. “I’ll take you flying first thing when I do,”  he promises.

The snow falls down peacefully behind the window as they sit there in the warmth of their kitchen, sipping their drinks and enjoying the soft atmosphere created by the music and each other’s presence.

“Els?” Ain pipes up softly, staring at his phone. The song must’ve looped quite a few times by now already, but neither of them really minds. “Would you like to dance?”

Elsword scuffs. “I’m terrible at dancing.”

“That’s fine, come here,” Ain beckons, standing out and holding his hand out for Els.

After a brief moment of hesitation, Els takes it and stands up. Ain tugs him softly to the open space of the kitchen and starts twirling slowly to the tempo of the singer.

As their feet glide over the smooth floor, Ain wraps his free hand around Els’ midriff, holding him close.

“I will… I will get my wings back one day… I will wrap them around you,” he mutters, squeezes his eyes closed and bites down on his chapped lip. “I’ll make sure you’re never cold again… Somehow…”

Els slips his hand from Ain’s gentle, trembling hold and pulls the taller boy into a hug so tight that Ain’s whole chest aches.

“Yeah. And until then, your arms are more than enough,” he whispers. His legs hurt from standing on his tippy toes so much, but it’s easily overpowered by the tear stained nod he receives. Ain’s whole body shakes under his hold.

And then he wraps his arms around Els in return. Holds onto dear life. Doesn’t let go for a long, long time.

“Until then, my arms are enough…”


End file.
